


Rightfully Lost

by TheNocturne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Secret Identity, Tony and Steve kinda hate eachother, What even is Endgame?, endgame? - Freeform, they make up tho it's ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNocturne/pseuds/TheNocturne
Summary: It's been six months since Civil War, and Tony Stark is on the hunt for a successor. Only, a couple of wrong turns lead him to find Flash instead of Peter Parker. Meanwhile, Peter's struggling, both financially and mentally. All he needs is a little guidance in the hero department.Peter's looking for a mentor, and Tony's looking of protege. Will the two ever find each other?





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, Tony went through Civil War without recruiting Spiderman. The Avengers are back together and ready to face the world.
> 
> This is one of my first fics so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! (The Chapters will get longer as the story progresses, I promise!)

_Whish! Zoom! Bing! _Bullets flew past Peter Parker as he narrowly avoided blows from a group of five or six thugs. He had trouble knowing exactly how many because he had suffered a blow on his head not that much earlier which was truly screwing with his vision. Still, that was nothing compared to the knife currently planted in his left shoulder.

One of the thugs, wearing a black mask, threw a right hook at him. Peter ducked, crouching down on his legs, before winding his arm back and returning a punch in his gut. As soon as he was out of the way, the thug was replaced by another. This pattern continued on and on. Every time he managed to land a good hit, the opponent would back out of the fight and return when he had recovered, letting his teammates fill in the gap for him. All in all, it was quite exhausting.

_Well_, he supposed, _this is what I get for attempting to take on the New York Mafia by myself. _These men were very skilled, and even more importantly, very well paid. Shady rich businessmen tended to hire nothing by the best, after all.

Still, while they were talented, they paled in comparison to the one and only Spiderman.

He punched and kicked his way around the group of fighters. While webbing one to a wall, he dropped and kicked another’s legs out from under him. Every move he made, albeit slightly hindered from the stab wound in his shoulder, was meticulously planned multiple steps ahead of his opponents. That’s what made Peter such a great fighter. It wasn’t just his powers. It was his smarts.

Despite this, people tended to be unpredictable. Again, hence the knife in his shoulder. That was a mistake he regretted very much. Still, he had suffered much worse before, and the wound was a clean one, so it wouldn’t be too much trouble to clean up. Peter made an educated guess estimated that it would be healed in, at most, two days.

Despite handling himself well, the fighters were managing to gain ground on him. If they kept up, he would soon be backed against a wall. After carefully blocking a few blows, a break opened up in their onslaught. Peter took the chance to look around the room. He spotted something that might help.

“This fight’s getting a little quiet, eh?” Peter quipped. The other men were too preoccupied to respond. “Might as well liven it up a little.” He smirked.

He was now completely flat against the wall. _Tsk. If only he was a few inches to the left_.

A smooth side flip put him in the perfect position, quickly solving that issue. He reached behind his back with his wounded arm, carefully feeling around the wall while fending off the attackers with one hand. He was searching, searching…there!

His hand was now resting on top of the bright red switch which he had spotted earlier. He flipped it without hesitation. Anyone would be able to recognize it for what it was—a fire alarm.

Almost instantaneously, red lights began to blare, and a harsh alarm shrilly rang in his ears. After a couple of seconds, the sprinklers began to stir. They whirred to life with and escalation of water pouring down from them.

The thing was, this current scuffle was taking place in the basement of a rather high-end skyscraper. As such, the floor was slick, tiled, and regularly waxed. The addition of water on top of these factors made it nearly impossible to walk straight on, much less fight. However, due to his powers, Peter could stick to almost anything, rendering him immune to these elements.

In an almost comical manner, the mercenaries began to slip. One after the other, they fell to the floor like graceless ballerinas.

Now they were easy pickings. Peter wasted no time in webbing up the remaining men (and women) against the wall next to their coconspirators. He dusted his hands off, mentally patting himself on the back.

He left a note on the wall, as well as a flash drive with proof of their wrongdoings, and then bolted out of there. He didn’t want to be anywhere near them when the police showed up.

## #

Later that night, Peter tasked himself with the ugly job of getting the knife out of his shoulder. Somehow, through some miraculous effort, it had managed to stay in his shoulder throughout the rest of the fight as well as the journey back to the apartment.

He grimaced as he gripped the handle of the knife that was currently embedded in his shoulder as a result of the scuffle earlier that night. Blood was freely flowing from the wound. He, despite it not being his favorite option, decided that his best choice was to grit his teeth and pull it out.

He had to bite his lips to keep himself from making a sound, so that his Aunt, May, wouldn’t wake up. It would be quite difficult to explain his situation right now, and Peter didn’t feel like having to go through that sort of trouble.

Despite it feeling like hours, only a few moments passed, and the knife was soon out of his shoulder. With practiced movements, he stitched himself back together.

Now that the hard part was over with, he found it easy to disinfect and dress the wound. The disinfectant stung, but he pushed through it. After that, he tasked himself with the troublesome duty of cleaning the bathroom. He had to admit, the current state of it was quite alarming.

He picked up all of his bloodied bandages and threw them into the trash. Taking Aunt May’s favorite brand of tissues, he threw them on top of the bandages as camouflage. Lastly, he wiped the floor clean until there wasn’t a speck of blood left. This part took a while, because every time he knocked his shoulder into anything remotely stiff, he would wince in pain and have to take a break.

Still, he managed to finish the whole debacle in approximately thirty minutes. He tiptoed quietly to his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

He took out his phone as he laid down on his bed, scrolling through the news, already seeing a few reports of his earlier battle. He smiled to himself, proud.

To the criminals he put in jail, to the muggers he had webbed against the buildings of New York City, today was the day of their downfall. But to Peter, it was just another day of protecting his home.

#

Earlier that day, Tony Stark, known to many as Iron Man, was traversing back in forth in his office. Despite the luxuries and beautiful view from the penthouse of Stark tower, he found himself very tense. With every pace, he became more and more anxious.

You see, in two hours an important decision had to be made, and Tony just couldn’t make up his mind.

This conundrum had started a few months ago when Pepper had told him that he needed a protégé. At first, he laughed. but then he began to see the reasons behind her proposal. And, matter a fact, they were good reasons.

People in his field of work tended to have short lifespans, and Tony himself wasn’t doing too well in the age department. Plus, there was the matter of his wealth and assets. Who would he leave them too? He had no heirs, no next of kin. In addition to that, there was also the matter of Iron Man.

All in all, Tony found himself quickly agreeing with Pepper, and began the hunt. It took a while, but he managed to narrow it a few prospects.

One candidate stole the show, however. Eugene “Flash” Thompson. Stellar grades and an even more stellar list of extracurriculars and sports. On the Decathlon team, Varsity football, and Basketball, he was the very definition of the overachiever.

On the downside, he was often written up for fights. However, one look at his usual opponents showed them to be part of a not so savory crowd. Regularly skipping class, slipping grades, the works.

Tony concluded that Flash most likely fought out of a sense of justice. Tony admired that.

A door opening startled him out of his train of thought. It was Pepper.

Hey Pep.” He said.

“Tony! There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.” He said, exasperated.

“Why didn’t you just ask Friday?” He chuckled, gesturing towards the ceiling.

“Oh.” She paused. “Didn’t think of that.” She replied. “Anyways, the reason I’m here is for your final decision on the matter of a protégé. Have you found the right person yet?” She strolled over to the horrendous stack of papers on Tony’s desk. “Looks like you’re not making any progress.”

"Hey! Don’t judge my selection process. There’s a method to the madness, I swear!”

“All right, all right, I’ll bite. If it’s so organized, then tell me; name your top five picks.”

“I. Um.” Tony stammered. Pepper laughed. She walked over and grabbed the paper that Tony was currently holding right out of his hands.

“Eugene Thompson, eh?” She asked. Tony nodded. “Seems promising. Everything you’re looking for. So, why haven’t you picked him?”

Something about her words reached Tony. He found it astounding how Pepper knew him better than he knew himself.

“I don’t know.” He said. “Just a feeling. Like there’s someone better out there that I haven’t found yet.”

“Tony,” she lowered her voice. “Whoever you decide, that feeling’s always going to be there. It’s impossible to look through every person on this planet and beyond. So go with the flow. Do you want Eugene? Then go and hire him.”


	2. The Announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update! My school has been crazy lately. Anyways, I just wanted to let you all know that I have NOT given up on this story! I'll try to update more regularly, but no guarantees. I just wanted to thank you guys for the amazing response to that first chapter, and I'll try to keep going.

## Chapter 2

Peter’s alarm blared loudly, startling him out of his sleep. He rolled over and slammed his fist down upon it, forgetting up until the last second to hold back his super strength. Hearing the crunch of metal, he sighed. He would have to take it out of his broken alarm/lost backpack/other-totally-_not_-Spiderman-expenditures budget. The cost seemed to be piling quite high these days…

God, he hated Mondays.

He swept the remnants of his former alarm clock and rolled out of his bed. He halfheartedly threw on a shirt and then ran out of his bedroom.

“Good Morning, May!” He yelled as he passed her room. He heard a response, muffled through the door.

“Morning Peter!” She replied. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a lone banana for lunch. After a couple of bites from a bagel, he was out the door.

He put in his headphones during the short walk to the subway. They served two purposes; the first being to block part of his over sensitive hearing, and the second being that he just enjoyed music.

He didn’t want to contribute to the Gen Z stereotype, but with his headphones, hoodie, and sweatpants, he was definitely looking the part.

In almost no time at all, he had arrived at school several minutes early. The contrasted sharply with his usual tardiness, which was due in part to his nighttime activities.

He scanned his surroundings, looking for his best friend. A sharp tap at his shoulder (Thankfully the uninjured one) caused him to whirl around. It was Ned.

“Ned! There you are!”

He turned to smile at his friend, quickly faltering when he saw the look on his face. Ned wore a slightly disgruntled expression and sighed, crossing his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

“It’s Flash. Just being an asshole, as per the usual,” said Ned. “Seems worse today for some reason.” He shrugged

“Impressive. I thought it was impossible to inflate his ego even more than it already was.” The high-pitched voice coming from behind Peter caused both him and Ned to jump, startled. It was Michelle. She did have a tendency to sneak up on people. “So, what are you two losers gossiping about?”

“Us? Gossiping? Do you even know us?” Ned asked. Michelle chuckled. “True, true.” She replied. “Although, I’ve heard a couple of things myself.” She threw a sideways glance at Peter. “If you want to know though,” She smirked, “You have to pay the price.” Ned sighed and Peter buried his face in his hands.

“Extortion? Again?” Peter said. “Really, Michelle, you’ve got to start changing your ways.”

“You’re just mad I’m the only one making a profit here.” Peter tried to come up with a valid response but found that he had no words to say. “See?” Michelle said. “You know I’m right.” Peter sighed and shook his head.

“Look! Speak of the devil!” Ned said. Peter turned around and saw the one and only Flash walking towards him. Here he comes, Peter thought.

“What’s up nerds,” He gave a courtesy glance towards peter. “Penis.”

Peter sighed at the all-too-familiar nickname. “Eugene.”

Flash winced for a second but quickly regained his composure. “Nice try, penis, but nothing can get me down today.”

“And why is that?” Michelle asked, probing for more information to use in her information-dealing activities.

“Nothing that’s any of _your _concern, Mary-Missy- what was your name again?”

“Michelle, asshole. I’ve known you for six years.”

“Ah, that does sound about right,” Flash shrugged. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going, losers. Got important business to deal with, unlike you all.” He smirked and turned on his heel, walking away.

“Ta-Ta, idiot” Michelle yelled after him. She turned towards Ned and Peter. “I see what you mean, Ned. He really is an asshole today. At least he remembered my name started with an ‘M’. That’s an improvement, I suppose.”

“Anyways, since when does Flash have important business?” Peter asked.

“Peter, peter,” Ned began, “important business to Flash is probably banging one of the cheerleaders near the garbage bin behind the school. I doubt it’s anything actually relevant.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “you’re probably right.” Despite Ned’s reassurances, Peter still had an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He chose to ignore it and trust Ned. He was his guy in the chair after all.

“Come on, guys, we’re late for class,” Michelle said, checking her watch.

“What? No, we’re not-” Ned paused and checked his phone, “Holy shit-we are!”

#

Chemistry was, Peter had to say, not much better. Flash kept throwing smug looks at him from the front row, tossing the occasional wadded up pieces of paper. Peter tried to shrug it off, but even he had to admit, it was getting on his nerves. A particularly muculent spitball hit Peter smack in the forehead, which was just about the straw that broke the camel’s back. Peter turned towards Ned, his lab partner and tablemate.

“The next time he throws a spitball at me, I’m going to take it and shove it up his-” Peter was cut off by another spitball. “Son of a-” He had to grab his left hand to keep it from subconsciously shooting his webs at him. It would be so worth it, he thought. Fuck having a secret identity, he would much rather put Flash in his place. Still, common sense got the better of him.

Ned leaned over. “You should throw one back at him. Give him a taste of his own medicine.” He tore a page out of his notebook and handed it to Peter.

“Good idea. Gimme a second.” Peter said, before dropping several drops of a solution from the lab beaker on his table onto the wad of notebook paper.

With just a tad of added super strength, Peter launched the ball towards Flash’s neck. It landed effortlessly with a satisfying smack.

“What the”- He heard Flash grumble as he groped around for the paper. Even if he did manage to find it, it would be almost impossible to get off without a dissolvent for a few hours. That was thanks to Peter’s super special solution that he had cooked up. With a loud screech, Flash pushed his chair back and whirled around. “Peter, you son of a bitch. I know that was you!”

Peter shrugged.

“Thompson, Parker. Detention! Both of you!” The teacher barked.

It was worth it.

#

“Dude, that was sick, during chemistry,” Ned remarked. “Totally worth the detention, I’d say.”

“Says the person not going to detention,” Peter grumbled. “Just kidding. It was totally worth it.” He fist-bumped Ned.

“What’s this about detention?” A voice said. The two friends whirled around, only to realize that it was just michelle.

“Jesus Christ, Michelle. We need to get you a bell, or something.” Ned sighed, “You need to learn how to not sneak up on people.”

“Why?” She responded. “I think it’s quite a useful talent. Anyways, don’t try to change the topic. Detention? Didn’t expect that from you, Ned.”

“Actually, it was Peter,” said Ned.

“Hey!” exclaimed Peter. “Not nice.” Ned shrugged, the traitor.

“Oh. Then that makes sense. More drawings for me then, I suppose.” She shifted her arms. “Win-win situation.”

“In what world is this a win for me?” asked Peter.

“In my world, dumbass,” Michelle said. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Why do you come? You don’t even have detention?”

“It’s fun.” She remarked

“How is it fun?” Peter paused, rubbing his brow. “You know what? Never-mind. I don’t want to know anymore.”

Ned poked both of them in the shoulder. “Here come’s asshole #1”

As if on cue, Flash walked by. “Wow!” Peter commented. “This is the third time he’s talked to us all day! A new record”

“I agree with Nate.” He nodded towards Ned. “Why would a cool guy like me hang out with some nerds like you? Well, I was talking with the teacher after Chem, and she said I needed to apologize for the spitballs, in addition to detention. So, as a result, you’re invited to my celebration!”

“Celebration of what, exactly.” She asked, “Finally getting your GPA above a 2.3?” Michelle smirked.

“Better, actually. In fact…” Flash climbed on to a table and spread his arms wide. “Excuse me. Midtown high! I have an announcement to make!” Somehow, the cafeteria managed to quiet down. “I’m having a party tonight and you’re all invited. Why?” He asked. “Because, I. Am.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Iron Man.”

Obviously, Flash had spread the word earlier, so most people understood the validity of his statement. The cafeteria erupted in applause. Everyone clapped. Well. Almost everyone, except Peter, who rolled his eyes.

That Tony Stark must be an idiot, he thought, if he recruited a meathead like Flash. He’d have to see it to believe it.

_Little did he know… He’d see it soon enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, kind of a cliffhanger, but not really. Foreshadowing, perhaps?


	3. stOnks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets sad, Tony gets mad
> 
> Trigger Warning for suicidal-ish themes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year boyos!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! On the bright side, I already have chapter 4 started. No promises, though.

It had been three months since “The Incident” as Peter had called it. Not much had changed, except for the fact that Flash’s ego continued to grow bigger day by day. At least he left Peter and Ned alone, now. At least that was a plus.

It seemed that with every success that Flash got, Peter received the opposite. While Flash had been basking in his newfound glory, Peter’s financial situation had begun to decline. The costs of the backpacks, web fluid, costume repairs, and medicine were piling up. Peter saw these issues and eventually came to an inevitable conclusion; He would have to apply for a job.

Originally, he had applied for a spot at Mr. Delmar’s corner store, but they didn’t have any space for extra workers. Thankfully, Mr. Delmar was able to recommend him to one of his friend’s shawarma joints located upstate. 

_ “Shawarma?” Peter had asked, at the time. “What the hell is Shawarma?” _

_ Mr. Delmar was happy to answer his questions. _

It was a little further away from his apartment than he would have liked, but he would have to make do. Plus, the pay was exponentially better.

On the downside, adding a job onto his already busy schedule was not good for his health, mental or physical. Dark bags under his eyes had now become a permanent fixture on his face and he found that he was dozing off during class. His grades were slipping, and they were slipping _ bad _.

Aunt May brought this up one evening at dinner. She was cooking one of her specials, cheese spaghetti. It _is_ was one of Uncle Ben’s foods.

“Peter?” She had asked. “I had a look at your grades yesterday and it’s concerned me greatly. Is something going on? Balancing a job with schoolwork is always tough, and you know I’d always be there to help you.” She added. Peter shook his head.

“It’s nothing. Teachers forgetting to input grades, and the like.” Aunt May caught on to the obvious lie.

“In _ all _of your classes?” She retorted. “Peter, you’re a genius. You shouldn’t be failing like this. If you need-”

“I don’t _ need _anything, May. I’m sure when my teachers fix their grades everything will go back to normal.” He said. The lying was exhausting to Peter. He could feel his anger bubbling up under his skin. 

Recently, Peter had grown a little more touchy emotionally. At first, he had just blamed it on -how did Aunt May put it- growing up, but he soon realized it was a symptom of something worse.

“You know, Peter, yesterday, I met the kindest man at the hospital.” She paused, leading Peter to wonder where she was going with this story. “The whole reason he was at the hospital was that he had overworked himself. Do you want to know his symptoms? Exhaustion, weakness, irritability… The list goes on. Do you see where I’m going, Peter? He was working himself to death. It was all with noble intentions, right up until he collapsed at his workplace. If you need to take a break, then I’m fine with-”

“I’m FINE!” Peter had yelled, slamming his hands down on the poor wooden table. Even he was surprised at his sudden outburst. Aunt May was shocked into silence. A stinging feeling brought his attention to his hands. He had struck the table so hard that it had splintered up into his hands. He was usually better at controlling his strength, but there were occasions he slipped up, such as now. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go pick out these splinters from my hands.” 

Peter then ran to the bathroom and had a good look at himself in the mirror. It… wasn’t good. His hair appeared unwashed and stringy. His arms looked little more than skin and bones, and his cheekbones stuck out, enhancing the dark circles under his eyes further. He turned away, not being to bear his reflection any longer.

He needed an escape.

Running to his bedroom, he had quickly popped open the window and swung out.

And, that brought Peter to where he was now. He was sitting on the top of the empire state building contemplating his life’s choices. 

_ Oh, Uncle Ben, _ he thought, _ where had I gone wrong? _

With great power comes great responsibility. But, Peter didn’t think he could bear the burden all by himself. Six months ago, he found himself with these powers. At first, he thought it was a gift sent from the heavens. He could finally defend himself against the bullies, against Flash!

But then, Uncle Ben had died, and Peter discovered the harsh reality of life. It was a cruel truth, indeed.

He realized that, since he couldn’t defend himself then, he shouldn’t now. At least the punches stung less.

_ What was the point? _He thought. May was right, even if she didn’t know the full truth. He’s not able to handle himself like this. He should just throw in the towel know, and give up the mask.

Peter reached up to his hands and grasped att he corner of the spandex wrapped around his face. Before he could regret it, he tugged off the mask. 

The cold air hit him like a bullet. The fabric protected him from most of the wind shear, and without it, he felt terribly exposed. Still, it was freeing in a way.

Every exhale brought with it a puff of steam, the water vapor in the air condensing on contact with his breaths.

He could drop it, right now. No one would remember a small-time vigilante that was active for six months. He held his hand over the edge. Peter could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins. Suddenly, a sly voice knocked him out of his train of thought.

“So that’s what the spider-boy looks like under the mask.” 

. . .

Tony Stark woke up one Monday as often as he does others; disgruntled, slightly hungover, and to the constant ringing of his phone. It was most likely someone yelling up his ass about one problem or another, but Tony had half a heart to check the caller ID before hanging up on them. It was a good thing he did, too, because he recognized the number which was attached to the incessant ringtone.

His beloved Nick Fury! Which was sarcasm, if you couldn’t tell. Tony hoped that there was a special place in hell for people like him. Always giving orders, never responding. If Tony took a shot every time Fury faked his own death, he would have been dead from alcohol poisoning three months ago.

Tony threw his phone across the room and it hit the wall with a satisfying smack. His satisfaction quickly turned to defeat when he realized he would have to get out of bed in order to answer his phone. He let it ring a couple more times before dejectedly pulling off his sheets and waddling over to the phone.

“Hi, welcome to Chili’s! This is Geoff speaking, how may I help you?” said Tony with his usual swagger. He could hear Fury let out an exasperated sigh from over the phone.

“Very funny, Stark. I assume you recognize the caller id by now?”

“Very sadly, I will admit that, yes, I have memorized your phone number. Regretfully.” Stark mumbled out, still groggy from sleep.

“Glad to see you appreciate me, Stark.”

“Can’t say I would say the same for you,” he said. Yes, Tony _ was _ bitter about the whole 5:00 AM encounter. “So, what is it you want with me, this time?”

“Want from you? Nothing.” Fury paused. “I thought I’d give you a courtesy heads-up before the news breaks tomorrow morning.” At this, Tony perked up. When there was drama to be found, he was all ears.

“Oh? Pray tell.” He said.

“This isn’t something I feel like you would get excited for. It’s about the Avengers, Tony.” His voice took on a more somber tone. “They’ve been pardoned. They’ll be moving into Stark Tower within a week.”

Tony was surprised he hadn’t broken any bones with the way his jaw had hit the floor.

“There’s no way…” He struggled to come up with a good response. “No! You can’t just do that!”

“I’m afraid the deal has already been struck, Tony,” said Fury.

“No. No, no, nononono! I own my own tower. The government can’t just barge in here. Isn’t that like an amendment? In the constitution?” He struggled to get the words out.

“Technically, yes, but since the Avengers aren’t directly a part of a singular government then-”

“Fury, Fury.” His voice wavered. “Steve- Captain America tried to kill me, the last time we talked. And what are you doing with Barns? He’s a dangerous individual. _ He killed my parents!” _

“Barns has been dealt with. Any actions of his during that time period are those of Hydra, not his free will. If you hate him so much, I would suggest that you direct your anger towards putting more effort during missions.” Fury lectured him, keeping his voice level despite Tony’s outrage.

“You know what, Fury?” He practically spat the words at him through the phone. “Fuck. You.”

He pressed the hang-up button aggressively. _ Honestly, _ he thought, _ fuck my life. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oOof. 
> 
> What's gonna happen next?!?!?


End file.
